The Villainess (Ak-Nyeo)

Punch! Ouch… Now punch again! Kick! Slash that throat! Blood gushes! Stab his chest! More blood gushes!!! Slice that leg! Shazam! Blood splats everywhere!!! Sever his hand! Aha… More blood gushing! Scream, shout, run, duck, twist, hit her on the face! Jump out of the window! Survive. Brouhahaha. Slash another throat. Yet more blood gushes. Carry on. Slash ten more throats. Run, hide, jump. Oops. Explosion! Boom! Blood everywhere. Slash some more throats. Yeah!!! HUFKvbblkj!!! Run again. Boom again!!! Finally…TAH DAH more blood gushes!!!

This is more or less what the Villainess is all about. In fact, it works quite well in the first 10 minutes, when it emulates some sort of video game. The problem is that the film is two hours and ten minutes long. The special effects are good and arresting enough to start with, but their unrelenting repetition with an infinite number of characters and an incredibly complicated plot make this film very painful to watch.

The story more or less revolves around Sook-Hee (Kim Ok-Vin), who is trained to become a highly skilled assassin. She eventually ends up working for South Korea’s Inteligence Agency Chief Kwon, where she becomes a sleeper cell. She gives birth to a daughter, is given a new identity and home, under the promise of freedom after 10 years serving her country. She falls in love with an informer, and her plans go terribly awry.

The film intends to make some sort of feminist statement by placing empowered and efficient women in the main roles (Sook-Hee and Kwon), plus many more in supporting ones. Yet the gaze is extremely masculine (the director Jung Byung-Gil is a man); this is the type of testosterone-fueled movie more likely to please men. It attempts to be some sort of Kill Bill (Quentin Tarantino, 2003), with a bloody marriage and even a daughter witnessing her father being killed from under the bed, but it fails tremendously to do so because it focuses too much on the violence, and there’s hardly any room for character development. This is neither Ang Lee nor Park Chan-Wook; it lacks elegance and cohesion.

The Villainess showed as part of the 70th Cannes Film Festival, when this piece was originally written. It’s out in UK cinemas on Friday, September 15th, plus there is a special screening at the Regent Street Cinema on Monday September 11th as a preview of the Korean Film Festival (which takes place from October 26th and November 19th)

Detour

Opening with a lengthy, single locked off camera shot title sequence of a woman pole dancing, this then switches to law student Harper (Tye Sheridan) visiting his comatose mother in hospital. He’s convinced his stepfather is cheating on her using out of town business trips as a cover. Hitting a bar to drown his sorrows, he overhears a conversation in which Johnny Ray (Emory Cohen) explains how his girlfriend Cherry shot a man who cut her face. Johnny Ray berates Harper for eavesdropping and drags him to the pole dancing joint where Cherry works and whisky gets Harper talking.

Brief echoes of Strangers On A Train (Alfred Hitchcock, 1951) are played up in the film’s trailer (at the bottom of this review) as Johnny Ray offers to take care of his stepdad at a price. But Johnny Ray has a different deal in mind: he wants Harper to accompany him on a shady, out of town journey to Vegas. He refuses to introduce Harper to Cherry (Bel Powley) when she approaches the table.

Next morning, the hungover Harper answers his door to find Johnny Ray, with Cherry in tow, calling to pick him up. The screen splits into two images, one for each man. Will Harper go with Johnny Ray or retreat to the safety of his house and shut the door behind him? The second split screen image cuts to Harper. In one image, he goes, in the other he stays. Thereafter, two parallel narratives follow what happens to him in both cases. Where he goes, it’s a cross country drive into hell featuring a roadside encounter with a suspicious state trooper (Gbenga Akinnagbe) that goes bad and, in a nod to Blue Velvet (David Lynch, 1986), a visit to a dubious friend of Johnny Ray’s named Frank (John Lynch). Where he stays, the antagonism between him and his stepfather Vincent (Stephen Moyer) will escalate into murderous mayhem involving a kitchen knife, recalling films by not only Hitchcock but also Brian De Palma. The film also references Detour (Edgar G. Ulmer, 1945) with its bleak narrative of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The movie develops into a split narrative, which follows a character’s life in more than one direction after a decisive incident – similar to Blind Chance (Krzysztof Kieślowski, 1987), Run Lola Run (Tom Tykwer, 1998) or Sliding Doors (Peter Howitt, 1998). But while his film is crammed with cinematic references, Bristol-born writer-director Christopher Smith (Triangle, 2009; Black Death, 2010) makes the territory very much his own and has a lot of fun both creating memorable characters and playing around with the narrative form(s) in which he places them. At the centre is the concept of the decision which changes things – and of how things might have worked out if a different decision was made. It’s this concept for which Smith so brilliantly utilises split screen, to emphasise the moment of the decision.

But there are other, dirtier pleasures here too. The plot/s is/are a mix of sleaze, manipulation, deceit, threat, abduction, violence, murder and more. It’s a genre-busting crime movie par excellence, switching between personal crime between family members in the one narrative strand and professional crime between cops and robbers in the other. For good measure, Harper’s best mate Paul (Jared Abrahamson) spends his time doing drugs or consuming internet porn, rendering him rather less helpful to Harper than he might otherwise have been. (There’s the film’s main “if only” theme again.) This thoroughly satisfying little picture even has the wit to throw in an hilarious outtake which adds another minor element to the overall package as the final credits roll.

Detour was out in UK cinemas in May, when this piece was originally written. It’s out on DVD and VoD on July 24th.

Free Fire

The first thing you should know if you are planning to watch Free Fire this weekend: “from executive producer Martin Scorsese”. Scorsese produces his own films, but apart from them, he doesn’t sign many other productions. Usually they are related to music, such as the HBO TV series ‘Vinyl’ (Allen Coulter, Carl Franklin et alli, 2016), about the Rolling Stones, or they deal with the cinema industry, such as the doc Life Itself (Steve James, 2014), about the Chicago-based film critic Roger Ebert. In fact, Free Fire is a jolly hybrid of opera and thriller. It is a very strange composition. No wonder Marty was curious about the British director Ben Wheatley, a fan of gangster movies based in Brighton.

Free Fire is an opera buffa. It is a love letter to the ’70s. Wheatley told DMovies on the occasion of its premiere at the 60th BFI London Film Festival: “Free Fire is a kind of an action movie and it is pretty funny too. I am going back to the cinema I really like” – click here for our exclusive interview with the filmmaker. As an exaggerated comedic feature, it plays with the sense of likelihood. All characters are stuck inside an old factory in Massachusetts. Usually, in a mafia film, there are three kinds of ending: the criminals go to jail, they are set free, or they die. There is always the runaway sequence in which your adrenaline levels rise. What makes Free Fire different from other gangster movies is that the characters never leave a confined space, a warehouse. And they never die.

More than a reincarnation of a Robocop in the skin of a gangster, Cillian Murphy, Michael Smiley, Armie Hammer and Sharlto Copley are silly men resisting death. They are as shambolic and clumsy as Coyote, the Looney Tunes creation that pursues the Road Runner (“Bib bib!!!”). And they all crawl for a woman, Justine (Brie Larson). She has brokered a meeting between two Irishmen and a gang led by two other men in a deserted warehouse. But then shots are fired during the gun handover and everything turns into a big mess.

The film tempo is quite slow. It works as an adagio in an opera. Because characters are hurt and never die, it prolongs the drama that each gangster experiences. Vernon’s (Copley) drama is that his new suit is now full of dust and has a hole.

As any opera, Free Fire also relies on a spectacular stage setting. Production designer Paki Smith, best known for his work on Batman Begins (Christopher Nolan, 2005), got his inspiration to build a warehouse from The Friends of Eddie Coyleas (Peter Yates, 1973) and The Killing (Stanley Kubrick, 1956). The set comes to life as a space composed by three floors of dirt, debris and detritus. It is the perfect stage for gangsters who forget which side they are on. In dust, there is truth.

It is true that Free Fire isn’t a movie with a complex philosophy behind it. It doesn’t profess to be edifying and didactic film about the IRA and how assassinations at that time were treated as “crimes only” and not “terrorist attacks”. Nonetheless, the story is a heart-stopping game of survival. The real show is wild. There is nothing more to add to the adjective. The film reveals that anarchy is in the blood of Britons. Anarchy never dies.

Free Fire was out in March, when this piece was originally written. It is being made available on DVD, Blu-ray and EST in August.